


Tiny Potter and the Shrinking Spell

by SupremePuddle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Foot Fetish, Foot Massage, Giant/Tiny, Giants, Harry is shrunk and abused by everyone, M/M, Macro/Micro, Macrophilia, Mouthplay, Multi, Shrinking, Size Difference, Size Kink, Vore, male feet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27687551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupremePuddle/pseuds/SupremePuddle
Summary: When Harry Potter is shrunk by a rogue spell, he is counting on Ron to take care of him... but his best friend is enjoying being the big guy in the room a tad too much.
Relationships: Colin Creevey/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Fred Weasley/George Weasley, Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Sirius Black/Harry Potter
Comments: 13
Kudos: 105





	1. In Ron’s Hands

“Ha… y? … Harry…?”

“One more minute, Aunt Petunia…” Harry grumbled, turning over and adjusting his blanket.

As the mist of slumber enveloped him once more, a hand ruefully grabbed his shoulder, shaking him awake. Harry shot up, very nearly headbutting the person shaking him awake—it was Ron, as he immediately realized—in the head. “Wh-what’s happening?” he asked while hurriedly putting his glasses on.

Now that he was awake, it became painfully obvious something was up. Although it was still dark outside of the Gryffindor dorm’s windows, bright flashes of color illuminated Hogwarts’ grounds. Ron’s hair was sticking up and his skin looked burned in several places; however, his face was slit by a huge, unrestrained grin. Despite being barefoot and wearing his pajamas, the ginger boy had hurriedly thrown a cloak on his shoulders.

“It’s brilliant, Harry! Just brilliant! You need to see that!” Without waiting for a reply, Ron grabbed him by the wrist and hauled him out of bed and the room, not even letting Harry snatch his wand.

Outside of the dorm room, it was anarchy. Several groups of upperclassmen were keeping the younger students from wandering out of the common room, but everyone was too agitated to make sense of any of it. As Ron barreled through the room, screaming “Prefect! Let me through, I’m a prefect,” Harry spotted a dozen first years huddled in a corner, looking terrified. Neville, Seamus and a few other other fifth years were looking through a window, pointing and laughing.

Then he saw it. Through the gaping doorway of the common room, which the Fat Lady left open, a dragon could be seen. It wasn’t covered in scales, it looked like it was made of sentient fire, sparkling and constantly shifting colors and shapes. A fireworks dragon!

“It’s so cool, right?” Ron exclaimed. Harry almost jumped, having mostly forgotten that his friend was still guiding him through the crowd. “Fred and George found a way to find a thousand of their pranks in a pocket-sized bag, and they spent the night scattering them all over the castle. They said that Umbridge tried to charm a flying sun into submission and it attacked her—she lost all of her hair! Bald as an asscheek!”

“Wow, that’s so cool! Did they-hey, you! Wait!” As Harry was talking, a second year student ran right past him and towards the rampaging dragon in the corridor. Out of instinct, Harry ran after her; he grabbed her and pushed her out of the way, just as the fireworks dragon started swirling and losing shape. All Harry could hear was his name screamed by Ron before the dragon disintegrated in a colorful bang. Then everything went dark.

***

“Ha… y? … Harry…?”

Harry grumbled. The volume of Ron’s voice was almost painful, almost like hearing someone scream while hungover. The Boy-who-lived turned over and reached for his blanket, but it wasn’t there. Surprised, Harry opened his eyes a bit… before opening them wide in shock. He wasn’t in his bed at all! All around him was a vast expanse of beige, supple hills; the material was so soft under him that it felt like sleeping on his four-poster bed. Ten yards away—or what felt like it from his perspective—massive trunks of the same pink-ish material, wider than Harry was tall, were rising high in the air and curving inward far above Harry’s head.

But as the boy looked up to look at the trunks, his eyes met the scariest sight he ever saw. So far up in the distance that it looked blurry, the familiar face of his best friend was staring down at him. Ron’s freckled face was wearing an undecipherable expression for a few instants, which Harry spent in awed horror—thankfully he was sitting, else he would have fallen on his butt—before Ron offered a toothy grin.

“Hey, mate! You good?” Ron followed up with a chuckle, which sounded like thunder to Harry’s ears. Every sound coming out of Ron’s mouth was amplified, like screamed in a microphone, to the point of rattling Harry’s very bones. “I think whatever enchantment Fred and George put on this fireworks thing rebounded on you. You’re lucky I gotcha before anyone noticed you're the size of a grain of rice, mate!”

Harry’s world was just starting to make sense again. A rebounding spell? Shrinking? Okay, that made more sense than Ron just being gigantic for no reason. It didn’t make it any more pleasant, however. The tiny boy stood up the best he could, struggling to keep his balance on the pillowy ground—oh Merlin, he was standing on top of Ron’s palm. The idea sent shivers down his spine.

He screamed up at Ron’s still grinning face. “Can Fred and George reverse it?”

“What?”

“BRING. ME. TO. THE. TWINS!” Harry’s vocal chords were strained from the effort he made to yell.

“I can’t hear anything you say,” said Ron in an oddly cheerful tone. “Wait a second.”

Ron reached out for something so unfathomably far away that Harry couldn’t imagine what it was. But it gave him the chance to notice his blurry surroundings: Ron was apparently sitting on top of his bed, back in the dormitory. As he shifted his position slightly to grab something, the giant’s imperceptible movement sent tremors to his hand and knocked Harry off his feet and face-first into the skin below.

“Here we go!” said Ron after a moment, brandishing his wand. “ _Sonorus_!”

A slight breeze came over Harry’s body and he knew the spell worked. At the same time, Ron moved his head closer, presenting his ear to Harry—it was like the gaping entrance of a massive cave system, and Harry briefly felt terrified he would fall into his friend’s ear and get lost inside. But he brushed off the idea and repeated himself.

“Uh, Fred and George aren’t in the castle anymore,” said Ron. “I didn’t tell ya? They took off on brooms after their prank, it was great! They’re in Diagon Alley now. Don’t worry, I’ll bring you there during the next Hogsmeade trip, it’s just in two weeks or so.”

Harry immediately protested, “Wait, you can take the secret passage out of the castle and- Ron? Ron, do you hear me?”

But the giant had immediately withdrawn his ear and was putting his wand away, ignoring his small friend’s plea. He just gave Harry a quick look and snorted in amusement. “Pfft. Even with the sonorus charm, you sound like a squeaky toy.” Despite Harry’s protest, Ron carried him to his bedside table and tilted his hand, sending Harry roughly barreling onto the wooden surface below. 

“Time to go to bed, we’ll play more tomorrow~” Ron announced before wrapping himself in his blanket. From Harry’s point of view, Ron’s form looked more like a mountain range than a human being, with peaks and vales where his arms, hips, legs and feet were. Ron’s body seemingly extended as far as Harry’s flawed eyes could see, disappearing in a blurry mess in the distance. Harry grunted as he touched his face, realizing he didn’t have his glasses anymore, although he was certain he still had them when he came to himself atop Ron’s palm. He hated the idea of his trusty glasses being lost somewhere in a crinkle of Ron’s skin, shattered to atoms with so much as a twitch of his friend’s fingers.

With no glasses, no wand and no clothes besides his pajamas, Harry felt naked. But there was nothing he could do, and Ron had already started snoring, so Harry laid down on the uncomfortable wood and tried to fall asleep again, hoping he would be human-sized again when he woke up.

He wasn’t.

Harry’s uncomfortable, nightmare-filled night came to an abrupt end when his whole body suddenly shot up in the air! Harry screamed in terror, disoriented, as he flew what felt like hundreds of feet in the air, propelled by an unknown force and spinning on himself while doing so. It took him several seconds to notice Ron looking at him with a smile, his wand pointed at him and guiding Harry through the air.

As much as his tiny lungs allowed in the flurry of wind he was caught in, Harry yelled at his giant best friend. “Stop it, Ron! Stooop!” Ron didn’t acknowledge his words, chuckling as he magically forced Harry to do a complete loop. “Merlin! Let me down! Let me doooooooow-” Before he could finish his sentence, Harry plummeted towards the bed and crash-landed on the blanket. Or rather, _in_ the blanket, as the fall was so violent he sank deep into it, forcing him to crawl the equivalent of 6 feet out of the hole his fall created.

“What the hell, Ron?!” Harry shouted as he reached the top of the blanket. But what greeted him up there wasn’t Ron’s face, happy to have pranked his tiny friend, but two larger-than-life feet. Ron was always tall and lanky, but his feet were even more so. One foot was upright, resting on the heel, while the other was on its side, toes spread apart; both showed their soles directly to Harry, just a few inches away from him. The soles were impossibly tall, skinny and imposing. The skin of the soles looked more worn and leathery than the skin of Ron’s palms, reflecting a lifetime of walking barefoot. Maybe it was just Harry’s warped perspective, but it looked like the upright foot was the size of a tall building, and twice as impressive. “...R-Ron?” Harry stuttered.

His query wasn’t answered with words, however, but with movement. Like on cue, the upright foot started lowering itself, slowly first but picking up speed. Harry tried to run away from the falling sole, but the blanket was too unstable to allow movement without sinking into it. And sink he did—thankfully. Not three seconds later, Ron’s sole landed on the bed, flush with the blanket and covering Harry entirely. Beneath it, Harry ended up encased in the blanket, its softness protecting the small boy’s body from the unfathomable strength of Ron’s foot.

“What are you doing? ...Ron? Ron?!” Harry pleaded to nobody, as he knew nobody could hear him. Even if the sonorus charm were still active, his voice would die out before even reaching Ron’s toes, much less his ears. The squishy sole pressed against Harry’s body was radiating warmth, making Harry sweaty and squirmy, and it kept being agitated with twitches that felt like earthquakes to Harry. In the distance, muffled by the foot above him but still deafeningly loud due to the size disparity, Harry could hear grunts and groans.

After what felt like hours, and after Harry became intimately familiar with every crease of Ron’s skin, the foot shifted away, flooding the place with the sunlight that was peeking through the bed’s curtains. Ron’s face was too distant to be clearly seen, but Harry noticed his face and ears were a rich shade of red and sweat was beading his forehead.

“O-Oh, Harry… I… I didn’t see you there,” said Ron, short of breath. With an awkward laugh, Ron hurriedly opened the curtains and hopped off the bed, leaving Harry encased in the blanket. “Shower” was all that Ron mumbled as he gathered clean clothes and disappeared in the distance.

“What… the HELL… was that…?” said Harry. As he heard the shower turn on in the next room, he finally gathered whatever little energy his sore little body had left to stand up. He had a long… a very, very long few weeks ahead of him, if today was any indication.


	2. Ron’s Dark Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry ends up in a pickle, and Ron earns himself a fun new toy.

Harry’s prediction quickly proved true, he found. Ron remained in the shower much longer than usual, and Dean, then Seamus, and eventually even Neville—who was usually late to class—left the dormitory while the water was still running. When Ron finally emerged, he was a deep lobster-red, and his eyes immediately locked onto Harry.

“Blimey, Harry! We’re late!” he exclaimed, as if Harry could somehow help it. Without giving the smaller boy even a second to express that thought, however, Ron snatched him in his fist and shoved him in his robe’s pocket before running out.

“Hey! Don’t do that!” Harry yelled up at him from the confines of the fabric—but it was useless without a sonorus charm, so he just laid back and tried to forget he had just been manhandled like one of Dudley’s action figures.

Ron’s pocket was not the most comfortable place, as the fabric had a rough, second-hand quality. Each and every movement of the giant wearing it made Harry’s whole world swing and twist—not like a hammock, more like a slow-mo car crash that made it hard to rest, which wasn’t helped by a hole the width of Harry’s leg that he had to constantly look out for. To not help the matter, the pocket was rather dirty, it clearly hadn’t been cleaned since the last time Molly Weasley was in charge of laundry.

But the worst part was a lone sickle discarded and probably forgotten in the pocket. Harry was roughly introduced to his unwanted roommate while Ron was barreling down the stairs to the common room and, Harry supposed, slammed into another student who was equally late to class. Harry had been trying to keep himself in place as the fabric around him swirled dangerously fast, and the sudden shock and stop sent him literally flying to the other side of the pocket, face first into the lone coin.

“Sorry Jae!” had been all he could hear from Ron—certainly talking to Jae Kim, a Korean underclassman, who politely apologized in turn. As he massaged his bruised forehead, Harry made a mental note to demand an apology out of Ron as soon as he was out of there.

The rest of the day was not too bad, thankfully, once he got the rhythm of Ron’s walk and how it affected the inside of his pocket. It was still upsetting to be carried in a pocket like any random item, but Harry could deal with that. From his hiding place, he could hear McGonagall’s strict instructions and Binns’ droning voice as classes went on, and he was almost glad he was in here and not out there, if only just to avoid classes. He even got a few giggles out of the repeated “Have you seen Potter?” addressed to Ron throughout the day, and his friend’s stammered lies in reply.

The only times when Harry felt genuine annoyance were when Ron’s hand was shoved in the pocket, which happened more often than the small boy was comfortable with. While he could understand a quick check once in a while out of concern, when the humongous fingers slid in there for what felt like the hundredth time during Flitwick’s class, prodding and squeezing Harry’s whole body with stubborn insistence, he punched and even bit his friend’s pointer finger, making them quickly retreat in understanding. Harry promised himself he would have a serious talk with Ron about it… after the day was up, again. He hated feeling so helpless.

One unexpected effect of that, however, was that Ron didn’t put his fingers back in his pocket  _ at all  _ all day, even to share some of his food during lunch. Maybe he had just forgotten, Harry figured, but the effect was that he felt increasingly hungry as the day went on. When the last class of the day concluded, he was positively famished and eager to get out of his black and bland hiding place.

On the way back to the dormitories, Ron seemingly took a detour, Harry assumed, as he could hear the sounds of thousands of massive students being quickly replaced by the sound of running water. Somewhere in the bathroom, perhaps?

“Hey Ron! Here to buy a potion, are ya?” came Lee Jordan’s voice suddenly, making Harry perk up. Ron’s reply came whispered and inaudible, and Lee continued the conversation in kind, forcing Harry to strain his ears to listen. Even then, he couldn’t distinguish words from the hushed exchange.

Taking the matter into his own hands, Harry decided to scale up the pocket. It was rather easy, after all, as he was surrounded by fabric; grabbing a handful of the “wall,” he hauled himself up, climbing towards the ray of light shining from the pocket’s opening. That is, until the now-familiar fingers appeared at the opening and casually shoved themselves into the pocket.

At first, Harry assumed Ron was trying to grab him, but the hand completely ignored him—Ron seemingly didn’t realize Harry was climbing up—and kept going down, the moving wall of flesh very nearly knocking Harry off. To his surprise, Ron had actually grabbed the sickle, and he hauled it out of the pocket.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Lee exclaimed, and Ron resumed walking. The sudden swaying of the fabric made it harder to hold on, and Harry tumbled back down. There, he just let the walking movements toss him around. Looking up at all the progress he had made towards leaving the pocket, it was disheartening to see he’d just lost it due to Ron’s most minute, accidental movement. He added another question to his mental list and gave up.

Finally, Ron stopped in what Harry could only assume was their dormitory. Eager to see the light of day again, Harry welcomed the fingers when they slithered their way in again and wrapped themselves up around him. Encased inside Ron’s fist, Harry was uncomfortable and blinded, but he was getting used to it, somewhat.

“ _ Sonorus _ ,” said Ron somewhere beyond the pink walls blocking Harry’s vision, indicating he was pointing his wand at his fist, as the feeling of the spell taking hold proved to Harry that the spell worked. An instant later, after some ruffling fabric sounds could be heard, Harry was finally dropped down on what appeared to be a slab of stone. It wasn’t the sunlight Harry had been hoping for, as he was on Ron’s bed, with the curtains closed, but it was something, he figured. However, he didn’t have much time to look at his environment, as his eyes were irresistibly drawn toward Ron, who was sitting on the bed next to him.

Although he would have preferred not to,, Harry got a good look at Ron’s upper body, which was towering above him. The giant was wearing only his pajama pants, a ruffled, half-open shirt and a large grin on his face. It was the kind of expression Harry would expect to see on his friend’s face if the Chudley Cannons had beaten the odds and won the Quidditch World Cup. But this wasn’t about Quidditch; Ron’s eyes were locked on Harry, and it was giving the smaller boy the screaming ab-dabs.

Harry tried to divert his own attention from Ron’s gaze by talking. “So, what a-”

“How about a game of chess?” If Harry’s voice was a wisp of smoke, Ron’s authoritative, booming voice was a hurricane blowing it out of existence. Harry winced, and he realized the slab of what he thought was stone, under his feet, was indeed a chess board. Harry tried to open his mouth again to address the events of the day, but even he couldn’t hear his own voice as Ron kept talking.

“You will be the king—it’s no fun if you’re a piece I can take out at the beginning of the game,” continued Ron. As he spoke, the living chess pieces hopped into Harry’s field of vision to take their spots on the board. The black king’s square was empty, and Harry hesitantly walked towards it, accompanied by Ron’s voice. “The winner gets full authority over the loser for a day—if you lose, you’re gonna have to do everything I tell you to~”

Harry whipped around as he heard that. “Hey! I’m not agreeing to that!” 

Ron simply raised an eyebrow, half-surprised. “Look at yourself, mate. You don’t really have a choice. If you refuse to play, I’ll consider you the loser by forfeit.” He smirked slightly. “Actually, maybe you should refuse to play. It’d save us some time.”

Swallowing his pride and anger—and the ball of fear that was building up in his throat—Harry didn’t quip back and resumed his walk towards the king’s square, his spot. Seeing the massive chess pieces all around him, like statues of an ancient civilization, Harry remembered a similar scene years earlier. At the time, Ron was on his team, and Hermione was there too. It wasn’t nearly as scary.

Harry took his place besides the queen, and he got the first good look at the battlefield. From his vantage point in the middle of his pieces, Harry simply couldn’t see anything past the rooks on his teams. Ahead, beyond the line of pawns, laid the empty board, then Ron’s pieces in military formation… and then the giant himself.

The sheer volume of Ron was unsettling to Harry. The boy was so small that he was dwarfed even by the chess pieces around him, many of which were animated with magical shivers in anticipation of the fight to come. Excitation or fear, Harry couldn’t tell. If one rook was as tall as the Forbidden Forest's trees, Ron was comparatively as massive as Hogwarts itself. For a moment, Harry felt back in his 11-year-old body, beholding the castle for the first time… but this time, he was beholding Ron’s immensity.

In their first year’s ultimate chess match, Ron had also been knocked out; something told Harry that Ron wouldn’t be the one to sustain injuries after  _ this _ game.Things weren’t looking too good…

“Pawn in E4!” The starting signal resounded, followed by the scratching sound of the living chess piece moving.

“Pawn in D6!” Harry yelled in response, bracing himself for a  _ crushing _ defeat.

After sending his queen out and losing sight of her, Harry heard the violent crash that magical chess pieces characteristically make when destroying another. His queen was dead.

“By Merlin’s saggy left, what happened to your chess skills, Harry? When you shrank to the size of a bug, did your brain become a bug’s brain too?” Ron let out a loud, self-satisfied laugh, ignoring Harry’s deep humiliation.

The chess match was much faster than even Harry feared. It didn’t take Ron more than 15 turns to threaten Harry with his queen, and two turns later, Harry was done for.

“Checkmate… mate,” said Ron. His ears had grown redder and redder throughout the whole match—a tell-tale sign that the ginger was getting excited—and he was clearly overjoyed with his victory, to Harry’s dismay. “As the loser, I want you to...” In the corner of his vision, Harry saw him wiggling his toes. “... kiss my feet~”

“No, I won’t,” Harry stated with as much confidence as he could muster. From the get-go, he was steeling his will to look past Ron’s gargantuan size; his friend wouldn’t hurt him, no matter what the size difference was, and Harry just refused to humiliate himself further. For a moment, the expression on Ron’s face made Harry fear he was wrong, that Ron  _ could _ in fact hurt him… but the giant eventually shrugged.

“Of course, it was a joke,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Blimey, Harry, you don’t really think I want you to kiss my feet, do you? Nah, the real thing I want you to do is to try out my cheering potion. It’ll make you euphoric, believe me!”

Taking out a small potion flask from a place out of Harry’s sight, Ron put one drop of it on his fingertip and presented it to the tiny. Harry instinctively backed off, but his faith in Ron’s good character, as well as the delightful fragrance of the potion, made him bold enough to walk towards the extended finger. Ron let him approach at his own rhythm, as if he were a feral kitten.

The drop of potion was slightly bigger than Harry’s head and shaped like a water-filled balloon squeezed at the top. It resembled a pearl and smelt like treacle tart and broomstick handles. Lured in by its appearance, Harry gave in. He put his lips against the drop, barely breaking surface tension, and swallowed several mouthfuls of the substance. It tasted divine, just what his tired body needed after this crazy adventure.

It’s only after he backed away and looked up at Ron’s face that Harry felt something. Was Ron always so… gorgeous? Harry’s eyes fluttered as he focused on the giant’s beautiful features; Ron’s eyes were the deepest, most mesmerizing shade of blue one could imagine, and his mop of fiery hair—it had an elegant, purposefully chaotic feel to it when you looked in detail—looked so  _ right _ on his symmetrical face. And his lips… Harry blushed as he studied Ron’s lips. They were so full, so red, just waiting to be kissed, bitten, loved…

“Wha-WHAT THE HELL DID YOU MAKE ME DRINK?!” Harry screamed, as he realized that his thoughts were most definitely  _ not _ his own. He was not in love with Ron, dammit!

The giant’s demeanor was lazy, confident in his victory, a smile lingering on his lips as he quietly observed his tiny friend. After a bit, Ron broke the silence. “Amortentia. The world’s strongest love potion. If I’m not mistaken, you’re currently deeply infatuated with me. Tell me, Harry, do you want to kiss me~? Do you want to dedicate your puny life to me~?”

Seeing Harry cover his face with his hands to avoid replying, as the only possible answer that could cross the tiny’s lips would be ‘yes,’ Ron continued in a sing-song tone. “Knew it! It will last a few weeks, so get used to loving me, runt. I got pleeeeenty more where this came from.”

With a movement of his hand, Ron shoved the remaining chess pieces off the board, so only Harry was left standing on this piece of solid ground, surrounded by Ron’s body nearly on all sides. With deliberate slowness, Ron raised one foot, depositing it gently sole-down on top of the chess board so Harry’s tiny body would be a few inches away from his toes.

“Do you have any idea how terrible it feels to be always in the shadow of the Boy-Who-Lived? Nobody knows Ron Weasley. People always call me ‘Harry Potter’s friend.’ When I meet a girl, all she wants to know is how  _ you _ are in private. From now on, I can tell girls that Harry Potter’s pecker is microscopic and that you're desperately in love with me. I could swear it under Veritaserum! Now, you’re the one living in  _ my _ shadow—literally!”

During his spiel, Ron’s facial expression was harsh, but it became almost loving as he continued talking. “You know, I genuinely care about you, Harry. I really do. That’s why I want you to enjoy what you’ll be doing. Now,  _ my dear _ , if you want to make me happy, you will worship my feet. You will love my feet as much as you love me, understood?”

Harry kneeled, his head in his hands, gritting his teeth. His whole body was torn apart by contradictions. He didn’t want to obey, but a primal, deep compulsion pushed him to throw himself at his friend’s feet. The idea was simultaneously repulsive and the most alluring thought to ever cross his mind. The butterflies in his stomach made him want to puke. It was like shackles weighing down his mind. Harry found himself cursing the Ministry for letting Hogwarts students buy  _ Merlindamn  _ love potions!

“Harry? Look at me,” said Ron. The tiny boy obeyed instinctively and he knew he had lost as soon as his eyes fell on Ron’s face. It was too beautiful to resist. Love won—that sentence had never had such a nefarious meaning before. Ron’s lips parted. “This is an order.”

Defeated by the love potion, Harry got to his feet and walked towards the toes that were towering far above him. Between Ron’s first and second toe, a gap big enough for five people of Harry’s size called him. He entered it. As he let himself be engulfed in the cave of skin and flesh, his hand gently caressing the toe’s skin, a potent smell assaulted Harry’s nostrils. It wasn’t unpleasant—nothing that came from Ron’s body could ever be unpleasant—more like a deeply masculine musk with a hint of sweat. The skin under Harry hand was becoming softer, smoother as he reached the deepest part of the cave, at the base of his friend’s big toe. Harry hesitated for a moment, until Ron’s next order came.

“Lick.”

Harry obeyed.

Pressing his face against the skin, he gave it one long, bold lick, which was instantly rewarded by intense shivers coursin through the toes surrounding him.

“Merlin’s warty pecker, you’re really doing it,” Ron said above, his voice dissolving into giggles, suffusing Harry’s body with warmth.

Harry’s tongue dutifully lapped the skin, enjoying the flavors exploding on his taste buds. He felt hot and passionate, feeling his normal self slipping away and replaced by a lovestruck admirer—but he couldn’t muster the energy to care. Pleasure was flowing in his veins, now, and all he could think about was Ron. Harry kept his eyes half-closed, picturing his best friend’s face, his thick fiery hair, his freckles…

Before he knew it, Harry was fully lost in the act, making out with the skin before him like it was the love of his life—and the love potion that was suffusing itself in his entire body made him believe it truly was. With both hands, he proceeded to knead the skin, sinking his arm as deep as he could in it—even though flesh seems pretty firm at a normal size, it appeared to have the consistency of a massive wall of pillows, and Harry could bury his hands deeply in it. Soon, his whole body followed, pushing himself as deep as he could without ever breaking the pace of his licks and kisses, quickly turning it into a full-body massage. He wanted to be as close to Ron as possible, to be absorbed by him.

Harry struggled to breathe as he didn’t allow himself even a second without his lips locked against his best friend’s body. His short gasps for air before diving back in were mirrored, far above, by the labored breath of Ron; the temperature between the giant’s toes seemed to quickly increase; the walls around Harry kept vibrating in a regular cadence; the rhythm was quickening, turning into a mad frenzy-

“Hey Ron, everything good?”

Suddenly, Seamus Finnigan’s voice, accompanied by a sudden flood of sunlight, interrupted the two boys. Immediately, the walls around Harry closed in violently as Ron scrunched his toes, squishing him so tightly that no love potions in the world could make the position pleasant. Almost instantly, both Ron’s and Seamus’ voices rang out simultaneously:

“MERLIN, MATE! YOU CAN’T DO THAT IN THE DORM!”

“DON’T OPEN THE BED CURTAINS WITHOUT ASKING!”

A series of noises and rapid movements permeated Ron’s toes to reach Harry, but he was left in the dark until the toes unclenched, letting him fall back on the chessboard. From there, looking up, he was greeted by Ron’s face, looking miffed, red as a tomato and glistening with sweat. He was still the most handsome person Harry’s eyes ever had the privilege to see.

“You stay here, I have to shower,” Ron mumbled so low that even Harry’s over-sensitive ears could barely pick it up. He jumped out of bed and made a point to close the curtains behind him, plunging Harry in semi-darkness again. “ _ Collojaceo _ ,” Ron said on the other side of the bed curtains—a locking charm ensuring nobody would be able to open them without using a counterspell. Was he jealous and possessive of him, Harry wondered. It was adorable.

… No. No, it wasn’t adorable, he suddenly thought to himself. Without Ron right there, some of the thoughts clouding his judgement seemed to drift away, and it slowly dawned on him what he had just done. He had offered himself to Ron, worshipped his foot, given up his humanity for temporary pleasure.

Harry suddenly wanted to cry—or run away. But the magically-locked curtains were as much of an obstacle to him as they were for normal-sized students. There was no way out. So he cried.

When sunlight—much dimmer now, and tainted with dusk’s unique orange—flooded Harry’s world again, as Ron’s impressive frame opened the bed curtains, Harry had emptied his tear ducts and circled through every stage of grief, anger, self-deprecation, love and anger again. But looking up at Ron standing by the bed, his pajamas opened and showing off part of his bare chest, his wet hair slicked back, Harry felt butterflies explode in his stomach again and happiness stretch his lips in a smile. He hated— _ hated _ —being in love with Ron.

The giant barely gave Harry a look, instead checking over his shoulder that no other roommates were in sight. Then, Ron casually sat, cross-legged, on his bed, locked the curtains with a spell again, and finally focused his attention on Harry—who was battling an overwhelming desire to literally throw himself at the much-bigger man.

Harry expected Ron’s feet to come for him, to resume their “session,” but it was instead Ron’s hand that sprung to life to grab him. With two humongous fingers on each side of him, Harry was pulled far in the sky until he was face to face with his friend. A potent scent of hot water, soap and toothpaste hit the tiny man’s nostrils.

“We can’t keep doing that here,” Ron said, clearly bummed by the thought. “Tomorrow, we’re going to the Room of Requirements. We won’t be disturbed there.” His lips stretched in a roguish smile. “But tonight, we’re _sleeping_ _together_ for the first time. How about a goodnight kiss~?”

Harry’s heart almost exploded. Slowly, Ron’s fingers brought him closer to the red, full lips in front of him, which parted slightly. Harry unwittingly wiggled in excitement as he was getting closer, so close Ron’s breathing ruffled his hair with each exhalation, and he bent forward, lips ready, in anticipation. The movement was excruciatingly slow—only five centimeters left. Four. Three. Harry couldn’t shake the thought kissing Ron was wrong, but he would have literally killed someone just to cross these remaining three centimeters. Two. He could almost touch the lips by extending his arms...

“Hahahaha!” Ron burst out laughing, violently pulling Harry away from his face. “You really believed it? All you’re kissing tonight is my sole, mate!”

Looking down, and although it was blurry without his glasses, Harry did indeed realize that Ron had shifted his foot onto his knee, sole up. In a blur, Ron brought him down towards it, ending in Harry’s entire front body being squeezed against it, Ron’s fingertips on his back and keeping him in place.

“ _ Epoximise _ .”

Harry’s blood ran cold. That was the gluing spell, which kept anything solidly anchored to any surface. And, although he couldn’t see them with his face buried in his friend’s sole, Harry felt Ron’s fingertips leave his back and the foot move until it was on its heel, Harry being upright.

But he didn’t fall. He didn’t even budge. His body was solidly adhering to the skin. Trying to ignore the fire of lust that the sole ignited in him—”It’s just the love potion! It’s not real, it’s just the potion!” he repeated in his mind like a mantra—Harry tried in vain to unstick himself. The foot kept moving as Ron was evidently preparing himself to sleep, Harry seemingly forgotten.

“Ron? Ron?! RON!” He strained his voice screaming, thanking Merlin the sonorus charm was still active, It took a minute before he got a reaction. 

“Belt up, mate,” came Ron’s reply in hushed, annoyed tones. “You’ll wake up the whole dorm.  _ Quietus _ .”

The counterspell to sonorus washed over an increasingly panicked Harry, who kept screaming for his own ears—without magic, his voice barely amounted to squeaks. By the time he stopped yelling for attention, his throat was sore and Ron had long settled in his sleeping position, on his back; powerful snoring could be heard from afar. Finally, Harry slumped as much as he could while glued to his best friend’s foot, and he accepted the warm embrace of the skin against his puny self. Defeated, he weakly gave into the potion’s desires and stuck his tongue out to lick, but the spark he felt before had dimmed.

While Harry’s torso was so tightly attached to Ron’s skin that he couldn’t move it at all, his head, arms and legs were free; so he could keep rubbing the giant’s foot all night, he figured. Although his mind kept protesting, each fiber of his being made him yearn for it, so Harry kept running his hands and tongue on the wall he was trapped against. That continued until his right hand brushed against something cold and stiff.

“Wait… that can’t be…” he whispered to himself, bringing the object closer.

It was his glasses. Although they were roughed up and slightly cracked, they still fulfilled their function—once Harry’s world became clear and crisp again, relief washed over him.

The place around him was bathed in the bluish glow of the moon weaseling its way past the drawn curtains of the bed. With his glasses, Harry could see the crinkles of the blanket below, the details of the golden laces on the curtains surrounding him, the outline of Ron’s other foot next to Harry’s prison. With a clear vision came clearer thoughts; it was like a veil was lifted from his mind. He looked at his surroundings with a new perspective.

The sensation that had nestled itself in Harry’s mind since he drank that damned potion wasn’t unlike what he had felt when the fake Mad Eye Moody had used the imperius spell on him, he realized. A powerful desire filled him, a sense of calm purpose. The heat radiating from Ron’s foot, the silky smooth skin pressed up against’ Harry’s cheek; it was calling him, like a cradle. If Harry trusted his feelings, he would tear off his pajamas so every bit of him could bask in the perfection of Ron.

But, no matter how insistent the voice in Harry’s head was, the tiny boy knew he had to resist it.

“I’m stubborn like that,” he said to himself. Talking out loud helped keep him sane, ironically.

Another fire burned alongside passion in his chest. Anger. A yearning for revenge. It’s that fire that fueled Harry’s movements when he finally snapped out of it—he pressed his palms against the giant’s skin and pushed. He pushed so hard that his muscles screamed in pain, but he kept going. After a minute of intense efforts, and perhaps a pinch of accidental magic, Harry’s entire body suddenly unstuck itself with an uncharacteristic “Pop,” signaling Ron’s sticking charm had been bested. An instant later, Harry was falling backwards, and down, and Ron’s titanic toes seemed increasingly farther away.

He landed on the mattress, sinking deep into a Harry Potter-shaped hole. Laying down at the bottom of it, Harry remained immobile for a moment, staring up. From his new vantage point at the heels of Ron’s feet, they were like the most beautiful painting in the world; towers of pale, smooth skin that Harry knew to be warm, welcoming, loving…

Inhale.

Exhale.

Entirely denying his attraction for Ron’s soles and his infatuation with the handsome ginger giant just wouldn’t do, Harry figured. So he let the feeling flow freely through him and explode in his heart; when Harry crawled out of his hole in the blanket, he had accepted these feelings and chosen to act in spite of them. He walked up to Ron’s right heel and put his hand against the skin, longing for it, knowing that he was too small to ever wake up a behemoth like Ron—the giant’s light snoring, reverberated by the closed curtains of the bed, was deeply soothing for Harry’s wounded heart.

Putting his lips against the skin, the Boy-who-lived wormed his tongue out and gave the sole a drawn-out lick. He focused on the complex taste that lingered on his taste buds after licking Ron’s skin, cherishing this feeling.

Excruciatingly, he moved away from the feet and towards the edge of the bed. Harry only gave one last look to the slumbering form of Ron, totally unaware of what had just happened, then he jumped off the bed, using the messy blanket as a giant slide. Once he reached the floor, he made a beeline for the dormitory’s door, knowing he could easily crawl underneath.

It was time for him to escape.


	3. An Overbearing, Oversized Fan

“Harry, are you here?”

The tiny boy almost jumped out of his skin when he heard his name called out. From his hiding spot under an armchair of the Gryffindor common room, he was certain he couldn’t be seen by students—and he was right, as he realized a second later.

“Harry?” The voice repeated. Harry recognized the voice as Colin Creevey’s, and it quickly became apparent that the boy was looking for him. From underneath the furniture, he could see the gargantuan bare feet and the bottom of Colin’s pajama pants—sky blue with a cartoony teddy bear motif—as he paced the common room. Thankfully, the room was all but empty, leaving only Colin and Harry; and the former had no clue the latter was there as well. Harry was intent on keeping it that way after his bad experience with Ron.

Colin wouldn’t give up, though, it seemed. His feet kept walking past the chair Harry was using as a hiding place, sometimes circling it before groaning and muttering to himself.

“He should be there. The spell can’t be wrong… Invisibility cloak?” Then, in a louder voice, “Harry? Harry, are you here? Everyone’s worried, Harry.” A long pause. “ _ Homenum Revelio. _ ”

In the distance, Colin’s feet stopped dead in their tracks and spun around, briefly showing Harry their underside—a dread-inducing sight after what Harry went through. The feet suddenly sprang into motion, seemingly filled with purpose. The tiny wizard’s heart started beating faster. Colin’s soles first slapped against the stone floor before stepping onto the rug, and finally stopping just in front of Harry’s hideout. The toes wriggled for a moment, scrunching up and feeling the thick rug underneath, before flexing. As Colin’s knees came into view, indicating he was about to look under the chair, Harry ran.

It was a desperate run, the kind that leaves you breathless after a few second but you keep running. Harry speeded past the chair’s leg, ducking to conceal himself into the rug out of instinct as he left the comforting shadow of the furniture. As soon as he saw that he and Colin were truly alone, and the other boy was on all four, inspecting the place where Harry was a few seconds earlier, he launched himself with reckless abandon into the wide open. Only one goal in mind: the opening leading to the girls’ dormitories. If he could sneak in there, he might be able to get Hermione’s attention. She was the only person smart and reliable enough to get Harry out of his situation, he figured.

Harry was halfway through the room when he felt the tremors of Colin’s body shifting. Daring a look back, he observed with terrified reverence as the boy stood up. Even after everything he went through, seeing a giant’s entire frame from the ground up was an breathtaking experience. Almost unconsciously, Harry slowed down and came to a complete stop, turning his body towards Colin, admiring the sight with his mouth agape. Relative to Harry, Colin looked more like a moving mountain, and his head should have disappeared among the clouds. Despite his youthful looks and behavior, he was a kind of being that was too large to move and too awe-inspiring the exist—literally unfathomable.

“Why is that junk not working?” Colin shook his wand like one would a defective flashlight, looking irritated. “ _ Homenum Revelio. Homenum Revelio. _ Really, in that direction, now? Ugh…”

After flicking his wand a couple times, the giant confidently pointed it in Harry’s direction—although much higher, seemingly miles above the boy’s head—no doubt guided by the detection spell.

“Harry, are you here or not?” Colin said. He took a step forward.

“Please, reply if you’re here.” His face seemed less motivated than a few minutes earlier, defeated by this wild goose chase, and his eyes didn’t even look down, merely scanning his surroundings at eye-level. Another step.

Only then did Harry break out of his trance. Colin’s feet were coming  _ directly  _ for him! Harry resumed running, this time to his side to get out of Colin’s path.

Another step.

“Colin! COLIN! LOOK DOWN!” Harry screamed. Better found than dead, after all.

Another step. The deceptively cute feet were so big, so vast that they could cover in one step more distance than Harry could cross in a minute. Guided by his magic and unaware of the situation, Colin turned just slightly, annihilating in a fraction of an instant all of Harry’s desperate efforts to survive.

Another step. His foot was so close to Harry… precisely a stride’s length away. Harry’s heart threatened to burst out of his chest and he was out of breath, yet still running.

Colin’s foot flew up, moving enough air to make Harry lose his footing. The foot was now directly above Harry, the soft-looking sole obscuring the ceiling and engulfing him in shadow. The tiny’s legs were in too much pain to get back up—he covered his face with his arms and closed his eyes. Displaced air bellowed around Harry as the foot fell, followed by a final-sounding slapping sound.

Then nothing.

“That can’t be right,” Colin’s booming voice said far above.

That’s what convinced Harry he was still alive, somehow, and made him uncurl his arms. Surrounding him on all sides were imposing walls of flesh, close enough to touch without even extending an arm, but none landed on him. Above his head, arching like the ceiling of an ancient cathedral, were the underside of Colin’s toes! Harry could estimate he was situated under the third, or perhaps the fourth toe. The area where he ended up, between the ball of the foot and the toes, was like a pocket of air and safety, a cavern with a ceiling just high enough for the boy to stand up without touching the giant’s skin.

Although being stuck underneath an untrustworthy boy’s foot was not the best thing to happen to him, Harry felt waves of relief wash over him. Colin would step away and keep walking, leaving Harry safe and alone, he thought. In his giddiness, he could even admit to himself that the cavern he was in was beautiful: The toes filtered the warm, orange light from the common room’s fire, which in turn plastered the walls of youthful, blemish-free skin with welcoming tones. Harry could see every minute shift in the muscles concealed underneath the bulbous flesh that surrounded him on all sides. He felt a magically induced desire flare up in his chest again—he could so easily imagine the foot was Ron's, and resisting that idea was a trial.

Then, several more seconds passed and Colin didn’t take another step.

Painfully getting back on his feet, Harry stood up anxiously, staring up. Through the gaps between the toes, he could just barely make out Colin’s upper body—the boy kept muttering to himself and flicking his wand, looking worried.

“Why doesn’t it work?” Colin eventually said, mindlessly scrunching his toes. What was a benign move for the giant was a catastrophe for Harry, however, as the walls of his sanctuary violently slammed into each other, trapping Harry’s helpless form between two shifting, living walls.

“Uh? What the-”

As fast as they slammed into Harry, the giant toes moved apart, letting him fall like a puppet whose strings were cut. Above, the foot hurriedly got out of the way, revealing Colin’s face, eyes wide, staring straight at him.

“HARRY?!”

The Boy-Who-Lived—or was it The Boy-Who-Was-Stepped-On?—winced, then sighed, and finally chose to make the most of it.

“He-Hey Colin…”

“Wait a second!” Colin said. The giant got on all four, allowing his face to occupy all of Harry’s field of vision, and pointed his wand at the older boy. “ _ Sonorus _ .”

“Can you hear me, now, Coli-?” Harry started, before being abruptly cut off.

“Merlin, Harry! It’s really you! Oh, you have no idea how worried I was! Everyone is! I heard Maggie Marckle—you know her, right, she is in my year, Hufflepuff—well, she said that you went cuckoo and ran into the forest. I thought she was lying, you know, because I know you wouldn’t do that! I found a tracking spell in the library, I learned it alone! Well, Theodore helped me, but I was the one who got it right, you kno-”

“COLIN!” Harry screamed at the top of his lungs, cutting the giant’s tirade short. Getting back on his feet, Harry wiped off some of the spit that Colin’s excited speech had flicked all over his face.

“Oh, did you say something?” Colin said, a genuinely innocent smile on his face. Somehow, being so small he couldn’t be heard was almost as humiliating as being stepped on and almost killed by an absent-minded boy.

“I-I said…” Harry let out a grunt. “I need help, Colin. Can you help?” He tried to keep talking, but his pathetic voice was washed away by the ear-splitting boom of Colin’s squeal of joy.

“Oh, Merlin! You, you really mean it?! I can help! I WILL help! Harry Potter—Merlin!  _ HARRY POTTER _ wants  _ MY  _ help!”

Colin’s cheeks turned a deep shade of red, and he bit his lips like a child who couldn’t contain his excitement upon being offered a wonderful new toy. It looked like he was about to cry. Feeling the giant’s shiny eyes focused on him made Harry shudder, but he did need help, and Colin seemed at least eager to please. With the intense pain he was in, which was worsened by the weariness of a long day among giants and the pang of hunger when he realized he barely had anything to eat since he was shrunk—the love potion he was made to drink was probably the most food he had, after all. To add insult to injury, the emotions bubbling up within him were so contradictory and violent, tearing him between love and hate, that he felt emotionally exhausted—he couldn’t believe just how attracted he had been to feet, and worst of all to his  _ former  _ best friend.

“I need a safe place to stay until morning. And food, if you have any,” Harry said. Colin immediately stood up, his feet landing on both sides of a suddenly flustered Harry.

“That can do!” The giant blurted, flexing his arms in a manner that would have looked comical on a short teenager; it looked unexpectedly intimidating on a being of mythical proportions.

Carefully intonating “ _ Wingardium Levi-Ô-sa _ ,” and ignoring Harry’s protests, Colin levitated him to his eye level before dropping the tiny in his open palm.

“We’re going to have so, so, so much fun together!” Colin boomed as he jogged towards his dormitory. Harry pitiful attempts at saying something were ignored. “Just wait until I tell mom I saved Harry Potter! Dennis will looooove you like that!” Harry’s shout of indignation was once again too weak for Colin to notice it. The giant was climbing the stairs two at a time, nearly sending his shrunken idol flying with every step without noticing it.

“Oh, and we need to take photos! You will look so cute!”

Harry was too busy desperately holding onto the wrinkles of Colin’s palm to protest, this time.

***

Being found by Colin was not such a bad thing, Harry had to admit. Better than hiding under a chair or in a crack of the wall like a mouse, although thinking of himself like that still stung. He didn’t like to be reminded of his small stature. He promised to himself that, as soon as his size was restored, he would sock Ron in the chin. Then kiss him. Then sock him some more. Of the three, the kiss would probably be the one that would bother Ron the most, and Harry wished the same could still be true for him, too. Whatever, he might as well have his fun as long as the love potion was effective—the ginger berk brought that one upon himself.

After being carried to Colin’s dormitory, Harry had been left alone on top of the younger boy’s pillow while Colin ran off to find food. He got a smidgen of sleep before his friend came back, arms filled with mouth-watering goods.

“There is bread, and cheese, and also fruit,” Colin said as he was laying down the items around Harry on the pillow. Each was orders of magnitude bigger than him, and he could easily burrow a mansion-sized hole into any of the foods Colin presented to him.

Harry’s eyes kept moving from the food to the giant boy. He couldn’t deny how nice and enthusiastic Colin was, but his erratic and unpredictable movements made the titchy boy worried nevertheless. Colin kept moving and shifting atop the bed, his knees planted so deep in the mattress that he created a ravine out of displaced blankets and fabric. If Harry hadn’t been safe on his own pillow, he just knew the incline would have sent him barreling down the slanted fabric, only to slam into Colin’s teddy-imprinted pajamas. So much raw strength and size in such an irresponsible kid...

“-I also brought water and juice, I don’t know what you prefer, and I have chocolate, do you like chocolate?” Colin hadn’t stopped blabbering.

“Don’t worry, all this food seems wonderful,” Harry simply said, putting his mind off his vulnerable state.

Drinking water seemed daunting to Harry, so he focused on food first, indicating to Colin to drop some by his side. The divine taste of Hogwart’s food, coupled with an almost-forgotten fullness in his stomach, made Harry forget his troubles for a moment—he didn’t even notice Colin moving next to him until a flash blinded him.

“WHA-” Harry shrieked as the light shone on him.

“You look so good on this one! You’re like a little mouse eating cheese!” Colin said, laughing. In his hand, his old-timey camera was pointed directly at Harry.

“Please, no pho-”

“Do one on top of the cheese! With a victory signs with your fingers!” Colin said excitedly, already readying his camera.

“Colin, I won’t-”

Harry couldn’t finish his sentence before two gargantuan fingers sprung from his right side, nearly crushing his shoulder as they compressed it between them.

“COLIN! IT HURTS, COLIN! STOP!”

Harry’s cry of distress went unheard, however, as the giant carelessly lifted him and dropped him on top of the cheese. All Harry could think about, as he winced and tested his painful shoulder was still working, was that even Ron hadn’t manhandled him so roughly.

Giants were fucking scary.

Now that a shoulder lesion had joined his leg pain, Harry felt less inclined to refuse the excitable titan. As fast as he could without spraining his muscles, Harry took the pose asked of him in front of the cyclopean camera. The flash blinded him again.

“Do one as if you were eating, now!” Colin said.

Complying bitterly, Harry spent the next few minutes taking picture after picture. The pain in his shoulder was enough of a motivation to keep the kid’s grabby fingers at bay. Only when Colin squealed in delight, claiming he wanted to develop the photos right away, did Harry allow himself to return to his comfortable pillow and dinner, exhausted.

A few minutes passed in complete silence, Harry simply focusing on eating a hole as large as him and twice as deep in the loaf of bread—then, thirst made itself known to the boy’s tired mind. After all of that food, he still hadn’t had a drop of liquid, and his mouth was parched—especially given how much time he has spent licking Ron’s foot. Deciding he had more than one reason to drink water, as he had a metaphorical and literal bad taste to wash off his tongue, Harry turned his sights to the glass of water Colin had brought him. Standing magically upright on the uneven bed, the crystal-clear liquid inside called the tiny boy.

Harry took a long breath and jumped off the pillow, managing to grab the lip of the glass. He hauled himself inside with great pain, wincing as his right shoulder flared up, but the pain evaporated an instant later, as he plummeted into the water below. Instead, it was replaced by something that enveloped Harry’s entire body.

“Cold! Cold cold cold!” He said after swimming up to keep his head out of the water.

The weariness and desperation he was feeling evaporated after he took a few sips of the water he was immersed in, replaced by an overwhelming sensation of wetness and freezing. It first bit, leaving Harry on the verge of tears, before numbing everything. Harry didn’t feel the pain in his legs or arm anymore, because he didn’t feel his limbs at all. He was like a head, struggling to stay afloat. The ripples tickled his chin as his numb arms frantically moved.

“What… what did I do…?”

Looking around, his mind finally clear, Harry could only see the deformed world on the other side of the glass, the shapes of giant foodstuffs and pillows looking even more otherworldly. Impossibly tall walls of smooth glass surrounded him. Impossible to scale. Impossible to escape.

Harry couldn’t tell how long he stayed in that glass—he would guess at least an hour, but it could have been as little as ten minutes, given how uncomfortable the cold and wetness were making him. At last, however, the curtains of the bed shuffled and Colin’s cheery face showed itself.

“Psst, Harry! I have the photos!” he said. Without looking even once at the glass of water, Colin sat besides it, eyes transfixed on the pillow where the tiny was prior to this. He gave a long look to the loaf of bread, and the Harry-sized hole in its crumb, before giggling. “You were really hungry, uh? It’s okay, keep eating, I’ll just show them to you!”

“Co… lin…” Harry tried to call him, but even he couldn’t hear his own voice; it was far too weak to even escape the confines of the glass. “Co… Colin, plea...se….”

Oblivious, the giant started positioning photos on the pillow, facing the hole in the bread. “This one is my favorite, you look so good! And I love how you move on it, you’re so cute I could just to eat you up!” He laughed. “Haha, just joking, of course! Unless…” He never finished that thought.

“Plea...please…” Harry could barely muster the strength to stay above the water, he was feeling himself sink.

“Oh, and that one! Dennis will just love that one, I’ll have my camera out when I show him so I can take a picture of his face. He will be amazed, I tell you!”

Down below, Harry’s arms were giving out. With almost no noise, the Boy-Who-Lived started sinking, fatigue getting the best of him. As the ice-cold water enveloped his face, Colin’s voice became distant, vague, dissolving into the cocoon of water.

It was comforting, in a way.

Everything was numb, so he didn’t feel the cold anymore. The nightmare was coming to an end…

Then, a tremor. Harry opened eyes he didn’t remember closing and, through the distorted prism of liquid and glass, he recognized the palm of Colin’s hand. He had grabbed the glass! Finding unsuspected vigor in this new hope, Harry managed to propel himself upward—towards survival, and freedom, and-

As Harry’s head broke the water, a mouth was waiting for him.

Far above the tiny boy’s head, Colin’s lips wrapped around the edge of the glass, and Harry’s entire world shifted violently, waves threatening to drown him, as the glass was tilted.

A flood of ice-cold water surged towards the giant’s mouth—it was like a vacuum, attracting everything, including Harry, towards its depth. The tiny’s cry of distress was lost in the otherwise imperceptible swishing sound of the water. Harry did weakly try to swim the other way, but it was pointless. The current engulfed him, forcing him into his so-called friend’s mouth.

It took Harry a second to realize it when he entered the mouth. He was turning his back to Colin’s face in a futile attempt to escape, but darkness was what greeted him. When the diffuse light of the dorm was suddenly replaced by a curtain of shadow, he knew that he had just gone past the row of pearly teeth. An instant later, Harry finally hit solid ground—he would have imagined he would enjoy it, after so long spent floating, but the fear gripping his heart left no room for other feelings. His back first slammed into what felt like a heated blanket before the current forced Harry deeper into the cave; he finally stabilized himself by sinking his fingers into the thing beneath him, laying flat on his belly.

He was on Colin’s tongue.

It was painfully warm, the giant’s body warmth feeling like a thousand pinpricks on his skin so quickly after the intoxicating cold he was immersed in. It was also soft and squishy, making most of Harry’s body disappear in the material, swallowed up by the flesh.

The water kept screaming around him, but Harry’s position allowed him a stable grip, so it harmlessly flowed over him without dislodging him. A blessing, he realized, as deafening deglutition noises rumbled through the mouth. Taking intermittent breaths, Harry waited out the onslaught of water.

Finally, the source dried up and silence settled. Harry’s laboring breathing didn’t allow him the strength to speak just yet. Far ahead, Colin’s lips closed, leaving scant lighting for Harry to see anything of the pulsating, all-too-alive walls of mucous and barriers of teeth surrounding him.

Tiredly, Harry pushed himself upright; the arm he used for support was swallowed up by Colin’s spongy tongue up to the elbow with a “squelch.” He raised his other arm to his face, noticing it was coated in liquid. After all that time in water, Harry’s very bones were drenched, but that was different. It was a thick, gooey substance that latched onto Harry’s arm—as well as part of his face, torso, and most of his front body—and weighed him down, connecting him to the tongue underneath him with resistant strands.

“Saliva… Oh god...”

It was a new low, Harry decided, when he had to struggle with both hands to tear globs of Colin Creevey’s saliva off of himself. However, while he was distracted, Harry didn’t notice slight movements of the tongue.

“HHHAAAA - RRYYYYY?”

The sound exploded around Harry, so loud that the very atmosphere seemed to vibrate. The “H” sent a gale-force blast of warm, humid air from the giant’s lungs that thundered against the tiny boy’s back and slammed him against the surface of the tongue with a wet splat. Harry could barely recognize his own name as the sheer volume of Colin's voice distorted his words, causing the interior of the cavernous mouth to bounce and quiver. Harry whimpered as the powerful vibrations shuddered through his body and pounded against his eardrums.

Harry meekly began crawling towards the lips, desperately wiping his eyes, trying to clear them of the thick saliva smeared across his face and chest. Colin continued to speak, unfazed, as he effortlessly pummeled the tiny boy with the overpowering volume of his voice alone.

“Are you fine in there, Harry?” he said, looking at the bread, where he assumed his tiny friend to be. “Harry?”

With careful movements, he picked up the loaf and brought the hole to his eye. He gasped as he realized Harry wasn’t there. What, to him, had barely registered in his mouth as a minuscule crumb of something… started suddenly feeling more like a Harry-shaped morsel. For Harry, the giant’s discovery turned into a muggle rollercoaster: First, the tongue beneath him raised in the air and fell in quick succession as Colin pronounced the words, while storms of warm air burst out; then, without warning, the wind stopped, replaced by a vacuum that suddenly roped Harry backwards, pulling him airborne towards the throat. An instant later, even that stopped, letting Harry fall flat on his back on the tongue, sinking deep into the muscle below.

Harry sputtered, struggling to breathe through the thick saliva, and a bright light blinded him. It took him a second to regain his bearings. The light came from the giant’s wide open mouth, Harry realized; beyond it, Colin's face could be seen, mouth agape… staring at a mirror! Colin’s eyes were scanning the mirror for a sign of Harry. The giant teen didn’t seem particularly horrified by the fact he had nearly swallowed his hero, Harry thought as Colin appeared to be mostly curious, perhaps even amused. After an instant, the eyes locked on his tiny form, and two gigantic fingers entered his mouth, plucking Harry out effortlessly.

The giant’s expression was slightly more contrite, a slight blush on Colin’s cheeks, when Harry was finally brought out back in the open air. Sandwiched between two digits, only his upper-body and arms were free, and his entire field of vision was taken by Colin’s face. He had a front row seat when the giant mouthed “Sonorus” before the familiar feeling of being bewitched glided across his skin.

“Eheh… sorry, Harry,” Colin said, offering a half-smile.

Trying to ignore the saliva still gluing his hair together, Harry replied, “It… it’s nothing. Just put me down in a safe place, okay? Please?”

“Oh! Yes, right away!” Colin hopped off the bed, carefully keeping Harry’s pressed between two fingers, and pulled what appeared to be a hamster cage. What could have seemed horrific—being kept in a cage like a pet!—actually made Harry feel slightly more hopeful. He was small enough to fit between the bars easily; he could just go back to the Common Room, he figured, and get Hermione’s attention, as soon as Colin left him alone in the cage.

Colin then raised his wand.

“ _ Reducio _ ,” he said. The cage immediately dwindled in size until it was the size of a matchbox. Colin brought his fingers above it and, barely separating the two digits, dropped Harry inside the cage before closing the hatch.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be safe here!” Colin happily announced. He shook the cage a bit and pushed it deep below his bed, plunging Harry in relative darkness.

In the cage, and finally left alone, Harry took a few minutes to get back to his feet. He needed a break, he told himself. 

To his eyes, the cage around him was the size of a large room, with a high ceiling. The hard floor was littered with cotton balls, and a few toys laid here and there. Water and food dispensers were hung on the bars of a wall, and a hamster wheel, as well as a wooden “house”—just three walls and a roof, but packed with soft-looking balls. After confirming that it was impossible to slip through the bars, Harry carried his tired, wounded body towards the house.

He really needed a break. He was asleep an instant later.

***

Three days had passed.

Harry could only tell by the feet of the pack of Gryffindors who lived in that dorm. When the feet came, it was either the morning or the evening after class. Under Colin’s bed, it was always dark; Harry couldn’t tell what was going on beyond his immediate surroundings.

After a few hours alone in the dark, Harry finally understood why isolation is said to be maddening. Everything was still while the students were sleeping or attending classes. Nothing changed. Nothing even so much as moved. Alone in this immobile place, Harry started to think of it as another world. A completely separate dimension… the mysterious kingdom of Underthebed. A world where the sky is made of wooden slats, night is permanent, huge dust bunnies roam the darkness and giant people exist. A world where the only activities are walking in the hamster wheel and staring at nothing.

It was a lonely few days. Colin had apparently not found any time away from his dorm mates to do  _ anything  _ at all, and Harry was left entirely alone. The most interaction he had with his giant captor was at the end of the first day, when Colin snuck under his bed to squeeze breadcrumbs the size of Harry’s head through the hatch on the roof of the cage.

That is why Harry was actually happy to see Colin when, after the third day ended, the giant teen crawled under the bed. Colin’s entire frame was so massive that his head bumped against the wooden sky and his upper-body seemed to occupy all of the available space.

“Sorry, Harry!” Colin whispered through the bars of the cage while cupping his lips, surely to avoid waking up his sleeping roommates. “Jae and the others just wouldn’t give me a moment alone. Here, I got you this!” He sprinkled pieces of cheese, ham, fresh bread and other goods into the cage. Harry’s heart leapt in joy at the sight; only eating bread had become stale very fast. As soon as his voice was magically restored, Harry spoke in a hoarse voice.

“You need to bring me Hermione, Colin. She can grow me back.” 

Colin immediately seemed uncomfortable. “I-I don’t think it’s a good idea. Er, others could see you, and…”

“I need to grow back. Please!”

“Summer holidays are just a few weeks from now, and-”

“Colin,  _ please _ !” Harry's voice was getting increasingly shrill, sounding of urgency. “I need you to bring me to Hermione!”

“-you would be safe at my parents’ place, nobody would know you shrunk…”

Harry opened his mouth to plead, but Colin loudly asserted: “I have a terrarium for you at home.” 

Taken aback by the authority and conviction in Colin’s voice, Harry fell quiet. Colin’s face broke into an innocent smile as he noticed the tiny quietly listened. “It will be like a palace for you! I can even install a tiny TV and furniture, and you could be out every day to play with me!  _ Silencio _ .”

Blindsided, Harry didn’t even get to explain he didn’t want that before his voice was stolen from him once again. He helplessly screamed at the wooden sky, but his voice didn’t even reach Colin.

“Haha, I really can’t wait! It’ll be so fun!” the giant boomed before crawling backwards and out of Underthebed. Harry was left, frustrated and exhausted, to lay in his cabin and stew in his despair. The mattress above creaked softly, indicating that Colin was back into bed. The tiny and the giant couldn’t feel any more differently about the situation, but both fell asleep simultaneously.


End file.
